


The Best-Laid Plans (Day 3 of Gwenvid Week 2019)

by Forestwater



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: (i won't delete these tags once i work on it either so oh well), Canon-Compliant, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Goofy - Freeform, Gwen is sneaky, Matchmaking, OH FUCK I think I forgot to include the plot at any point, as long as you're okay with gwenvid as canon, but like, david is sneakier, drunk shenanigans abound, gwen's trying to hook up Campbell and Miss Priss again, gwenvid week 2019, i feel like that gets clearish eventually, i'll work on it hold on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-10 14:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20853275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forestwater/pseuds/Forestwater
Summary: Gwen is a notorious matchmaker, and when there's a movie-ready romance right in front of her, she has no choice but to get involved.David, as her CBFL and boyfriend, has no choice but to go along for the ride.(Gwenvid Week 2019, Day 3: Scheming/Teamwork)





	1. Pre-Planning

“David, it’s literally the most romantic thing that’s ever happened in the entire world.”

He looked up from his guitar. “Well, that’s a bit hurtful.”

Gwen rolled onto her stomach so she could look at him; she was sprawled out across his bed, while he’d turned the uncomfortable-looking wooden chair away from his desk and was perched on it. “I’m serious. _ Seventeen years! _ And _ nothing!_” She flopped back onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “No offense, David, but I don’t think if we broke up I’d go seventeen years before getting laid again.”

She heard a small huff of laughter and a hollow wooden _ twangk _as he set his guitar aside. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

His face appeared above hers, and she arched her neck and closed her eyes; getting the hint, he gave her a slow upside-down kiss before pulling back and pecking her forehead. He stretched out alongside her; it was a narrow fit, but they were used to squishing together on the tiny counselor beds, and he looped an arm over her waist, nosing into her hair with a contented sigh.

“I know Campbell's a douchebag,” she continued, stretching one hand behind her to stroke the back of his neck, “but he’s gotten way better. And doesn’t he deserve some kind of recognition for that?”

“So you think his good behavior should be . . . rewarded . . . with love?” he said slowly.

Gwen huffed, rolling over to face him. “Well _ sure _it sounds bad when you word it like that.”

He laughed, kissing the tip of her nose. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re so invested in the happiness of everyone at Camp Campbell. I’m very proud of you. But they’re adults, and they need to be in charge of their own lives.”

“Come on, you _ love _love,” she whined. “Help me make love happen.”

David wrinkled his nose. “Maybe let’s not say it quite like that.”

“If you help me with this, we can make love happen all over this cabin.”

He sighed, unable to keep a straight face. “Of course I’m going to help you, Gwen,” he said. “But I just want it to be clear that I think this is a very bad idea, and we should just leave well enough alone.”

“Good.” Gwen sat up, hauling him up with her, and reached for a notebook. “It’s clear. Let’s get to work.”


	2. Phase 1

“Okay, the first step of any good plan is alcohol.”

David frowned down at the drink she’d set in front of him, then watched with wide eyes as she unloaded three more six-packs from her backpack. “Gwen, that bag is supposed to be for camping essentials!”

“This _ is _essential, and it’s about camps. It applies.” She tossed the empty bag onto her side of the cabin and clinked her beer against his bottle of cider. “Drink up. This is Phase 1.”

He took a hesitant sip. “What are we hoping happens in Phase 1?”

Gwen sat back. She hadn’t really put much thought into it. “Well, I’m thinking we start with them drinking, because things usually happen if you get people drunk enough, right?”

* * *

A couple hours and several drinks later, David picked himself up off the floor, finding a shirt and tossing it to Gwen. “How’s the plan going, anyway?” he asked blearily, collapsing onto the couch. “I think I lost track of what we were doing.”

“I mean, it’s proof of concept,” she argued, climbing to her feet and grabbing one of the bottles of water David had helpfully found them somewhere between six-packs 1 and 3. “Alcohol plus people who are attracted to each other equals boning.” She slumped against one of the armchairs, slinging her feet over one arm and letting her head dangle over the other. “I think we deserve a Nobel Prize or something. For science.” When a few seconds passed and he hadn’t said anything, she glanced over at him, wondering if he’d fallen asleep, but he was just smiling at her. “What?”

“You’re attracted to me,” he said, a gleeful, singsong quality to his voice.

“We’ve been dating for like two months, David. Also we literally _ just _had sex on the floor.”

“I know,” he replied, still smiling. “But it’s nice to hear.”


	3. Regrouping

“Phase 1 was . . . of questionable success,” Gwen finally decided, frowning at her notebook. “Okay, what are the major flaws of the plan so far?”

David, who had nearly fallen asleep, cracked open one eye. “Is there a plan yet?”

Admittedly, she normally prided herself on much more comprehensive plans, but she was still working through the effects of all that beer. (In fact, she was beginning to suspect that maybe she’d subconsciously wanted to get drunk and have sex with her boyfriend _ more _than she’d wanted to mastermind an ingenious plan to pair up her asshole former-boss-now-slacker-coworker with a woman she’d met twice. 

But of course, _that_ was just crazy talk.)

“I still think we’ve made progress,” she decided. “If we get them drunk together, they will bone. We’ve proved it.”

“Um, Gwen . . . didn’t we already know that? I actually don’t think I can ever _forget_ knowing that.”

“Can’t believe you wouldn’t let me look.”

“It was indecent!”

“Why do you think I wanted to look, David? They weren’t playing checkers in there!”

He sighed and sat up, wisely giving up on trying to fall asleep. “But they haven’t seen each other since,” he pointed out. “As far as we know. And I’m not sure they’d be thrilled to meet up at this point.”

Well, that was a snag. One she probably would’ve foreseen if she hadn’t started her planning process with quite so much alcohol. “Okay, so first a little recon,” she said decisively. “I’ll just casually ‘show up’ when Priss is in town, and we’ll have some fun and girly bonding, and Campbell might just _ happen _to come up in conversation. And you’ll . . . I dunno, tell Campbell it’s some sort of employee engagement initiative or some other bad excuse. He’ll see that you’re obviously lonely and pathetic without me around --”

“Why thank you, Gwen.”

“-- and he’d never turn down free booze, so that should be easy. Just talk, you’ll do fine.”

David stared at her for a moment, eyes narrowed in suspicion as he thought her idea over. “I guess that’s innocent enough,” he finally said, his shoulders relaxing and his traditional smile blooming across his face. “I was worried you were going to invade their privacy or something!”

“Of course not,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively as she pulled out her phone. “Now I just gotta call Pikeman; if I flirt with him enough he might give me one of those tracking devices they implant in all the new Wood Scout recruits.”

“Wait, _ what?” _

“How else am I supposed to know where she’s gonna be? I can’t rely on coincidence here, David!”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That was my fault,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “I should’ve asked for more details about the plan first.”

“Shut up, this’ll totally work!”


	4. Phase 2

“Okay, I’m in position,” Gwen murmured into her phone. “You good on your end?”

“Yes, Gwen,” David replied patiently -- the kind of exaggerated patience he always deployed on the campers when he was very clearly getting impatient. “When we hang up, I’ll go over to the Mess Hall and ask Mr. Campbell if he’d like to spend an evening with me.”

“Mention the drinks! He’ll definitely come down if there’s drinks.”

“I will mention the drinks,” he recited with a sigh, and Gwen knew she was running out of goodwill -- which, to be fair, she’d kind of overdrawn with this whole scheme -- and backed off.

“Sounds good, CBFL,” she said, smiling because she could picture the way all of David’s irritation would slough off at the praise. “And be careful -- we know what alcohol does to you, so you’re not allowed to fuck Campbell no matter how drunk you get. Unless . . . would that work?” she mused, ignoring her boyfriend’s squawk of protest. “I mean, it _might_ work, if we got them jealous. And not gonna lie, Priss can totally still _get it_, but . . . nah, that’s crazy. We won’t do that. Don’t fuck Campbell.”

“That won’t be a problem!” She could tell he was trying to sound angry, but his voice shook with suppressed laughter, and she swayed a little from side to side, grinning like an idiot. “I love you, Gwen. Be safe.”

Gwen’s heart melted, just a little; she still wasn’t used to the cavity-inducing overload of sweetness that came from being with David, and try as she might, she couldn’t quite summon up all of her usual jaded impatience with giving a shit. “I love you too, boss. See you tonight.”

* * *

“_Penelope!” _Gwen’s sorority-girl voice was a little out of practice, but she did her best, sliding onto the stool next to Miss Priss and waving over The Only Bar’s only bartender. “What a lovely surprise!”

Priss gave her a sidelong glance, smirking around the lip of the drink she held to her mouth. “I found a tracking device in my purse this morning, so either I’ve already spent enough time with Cam to get the attention of the authorities, or it’s not much of a surprise at all.”

She felt her smile crack, but soldiered on. “Oh right, _ Cam_,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially. “How’s that going, by the way? He is so tight-lipped about it -- a total gentleman.” (To be fair, that was actually true.) “But I heard you really hit it off last week.”

_ (Heard_, and did not get to _ see _ . Thanks again for that, David.)

Penelope turned to look at her fully for the first time, surprised recognition crossing her face. “You’re that girl who works at the camp. The one whose name Cam can never remember.”

“Yeah,” she replied, suddenly having trouble remembering why she was so determined to fix Campbell’s love life. Her drink arrived, and she tossed it back.

If this plan was going to go to hell this quickly, she might as well have the pleasure of being totally trashed.

“Don’t take it personally,” she said, frowning bitterly at her empty drink and gesturing for another. “He’s terrible with remembering women; he could be a real pig sometimes.”

“Except for you!” Gwen saw a tiny gap and leapt for it, her determining reigniting with the opportunity. “He said he wants to make things right and start all over again.” It was romantic as balls! Straight out of a romance novel!

Priss frowned. “How much of that whole thing did you see, anyway?”

“Oh, nothing after you actually solved the escape room.” Thanks to her stupid, noble, cock-blocking boyfriend. “But isn’t that what you’ve wanted from him?”

“That’s what I wanted seventeen years ago. I’m a completely different person now, and Cam just doesn’t see that.”

“He might, though. He’s been doing so much better since he got put under camp arrest, and --” Gwen realized instantly that this probably wasn’t the best argument and deflated, slumping over her drink and draining it.

Penelope watched her for a second. “Kind of a romantic, huh?”

She shrugged. “Just a sucker for a good story,” she mumbled, feeling like a total idiot.

After a few moments of silence, Penelope slid her drink over to her, the cool glass tapping against her arm and jolting her out of her self-pity. She took it, turning it so the lipstick mark was on the opposite side and taking a sip, while Priss got herself another drink and swiveled her bar stool to face her.

“Well -- Gwen, is it?” She waited for a nod before crossing her legs, a smile spreading across her face. “Gwen, if you want stories about Cam, I’ve got _ plenty _of those.”


	5. Success?

“Welcome back!” David opened the door for her while she was still fumbling with the lock, waving over her shoulder at the Uber driver. He pulled her into a hug, sighing happily the way he always did when they were together, as though having her in his arms was like slipping into a hot bath. He kissed her temple and said, “You know, after talking with Mr. Campbell, I’m starting to come around on this plan. He’s very --”

“Fuck Campbell,” Gwen interrupted, shoving past him and into the cabin proper and rooting around for her pajamas. “He’s a prick and he’ll be lucky if Priss decides she wants to be fuckbuddies.”

David sat down on his bed, crossing his arms with a wide-eyed, thoughtful expression. His breath had smelled a bit like cider when he’d kissed her -- though buried under mint, because of course he’d brushed his teeth before she came home -- and his face was a little bit pink, but she could tell he was mostly sober. “You don’t say?”

His voice had just a little too much innocent curiosity in it -- that little spark of “too much” that always gave away when he was lying. She whirled around with her pajamas clutched to her chest, pointing at him dramatically with her free arm. “You knew she’d talk me out of it, you bastard!”

He held up his hands, biting his lip to avoid smiling. “I didn’t know anything!” he exclaimed. “I just . . . was optimistic . . . that she might give you a different perspective.” When she put her hands on her hips and glared at him, he blushed, adding, “They seem to be at peace with the situation. And I just thought that if you had a chance, you’d see it that way as well.”

“I can’t believe you set me up to ruin my own plan.” Gwen began to get changed, shaking her head and thinking backward as fast as her soggy brain would allow. “You were the one who pointed out that we couldn’t get the two of them alone together, either,” she said, “and -- wait, when I said I wanted to try to set them up the first thing you asked was if this was going to involve alcohol, which is what gave me the idea to buy it in the first place! _And_ you were the one who kissed me when I started actually trying to plan! You were scheming against my scheme the entire time, you -- you double-schemer!”

She climbed into his lap -- the better to glower down at him -- and he instinctively caged her waist between his palms, steadying her gently. “I wouldn’t call it scheming,” he argued. “I prefer to think of it as . . . ‘lovingly redirecting your creative energy.’”

“_Schemer,” _she insisted, bumping her forehead against his. “Untrustworthy, scheming David.”

He kissed her, still smiling against her mouth, and after a moment of haughty irritation she allowed herself to melt against him.

“But wait,” she said, talking into his mouth before either of them bothered to pull back, “you hate when I drink on the job.”

David shrugged one shoulder, the side of his mouth twitching upward at the same time. “It’s been a very stressful last couple of weeks,” he said, “and it seemed like you needed to let off some steam.”

She _ hmph_ed, draping her arms over his shoulders and nuzzling her nose against his. “Just because I’ve given up on the plan doesn’t mean I’m not still steamy,” she warned, languidly raising one hand to his hair and tugging his head backward. “Got any other bright ideas, Mr. Greenwood?”

He grinned at her. “Just a couple!”


End file.
